


Ivy

by hollylikeaboulevard



Series: Behind the Barricades [1]
Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, alcohol tw, it resolves, well kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 23:23:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8917207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollylikeaboulevard/pseuds/hollylikeaboulevard
Summary: “I- I think I’m in love with you,” Grantaire stammered. Enjolras almost dropped his umbrella.
“Grantaire, are you drunk?” he cried. 
“No, I’m not,” said Grantaire, this time with more conviction. 
“You can’t- you can’t be serious-” Enjolras blinked several times, as if to wake up from a dream. “Grantaire…”





	

**Author's Note:**

> ok I was kinda inspired by the song 'Ivy' by frank Ocean, which has been stuck in my head for the past several days (save me). I also am reading les mis and got to the part where E & R die together (spoiler alert) and was like 'hey what if they like proclaimed their love for each other before they died' and this is kind of what grew out of that.

Normally, around this time of day, Grantaire would be drunk out of his mind, but it was 5 o’clock already, and he had not taken one sip of alcohol. It was unusual to see him this tense. Jean Provaire had noticed it first, being the empathetic soul that he was. At some point in the discussion, Joly remarked to Bossuet that “Grantaire looks kind of pale, and would Bossuet darling mind switching seats?”. Soon enough, worry for Grantaire spread around the table, although he insisted that he was fine. 

The last one to notice Grantaire’s disturbing lack of inebriation was Enjolras, lost in thought as he was. The conversation at the table was not in the least bit interesting to him, and he ended up just tuning them out. 

“...is clearly the best place if you want a quick bite to eat, right, Enjolras?” Bahorel’s voice pulled Enjolras out of his trance. 

“Hm? Yes, of course,” he said absentmindedly. He looked at the grandfather clock on the wall. It was well past nine at this point, the time that he’d told himself he’d have to start going home. 

“Well, it was nice to see you all,” he said with a smile. “How about we meet at the Corinthe tomorrow?” 

“Great idea!” shouted Combeferre. 

“And next time, we’ll talk more about this insurrection. We were kind of off topic today,” Enjolras said sternly. He grabbed his coat and scarf and headed out the door. “Good night!” 

Enjolras stepped out of the tavern. It was raining outside. He grabbed his umbrella and began to open it when he heard someone from behind him call his name. 

It was Grantaire. He looked timid and pale in the rain. 

“What do you want?” said Enjolras, a bit brusquely. 

“Enjolras…” Grantaire trailed off. He looked physically uncomfortable. Enjolras softened at this- he was so used to the normal Grantaire, swearing, sweaty, drunk Grantaire, that he couldn’t help but take pity on him. 

“What is it, R?” Enjolras asked, calling him by his nickname. 

“I- I think I’m in love with you,” Grantaire stammered. Enjolras almost dropped his umbrella. 

“Grantaire, are you drunk?” he cried. 

“No, I’m not,” said Grantaire, this time with more conviction. 

“You can’t- you can’t be serious-” Enjolras blinked several times, as if to wake up from a dream. “Grantaire…” 

“I’m sorry,” he said, lowering his eyes. “I get it if you hate me now. I just- I just couldn’t keep living a lie, going on about things with you not knowing.” 

“I can’t deal with this now,” said Enjolras. Grantaire hung his head. “I’m sorry- I just have too much to deal with, with the riots and the government- I just can’t do this,” he said. Grantaire looked up. There appeared to be tears in his eyes, but it could’ve been the rain. 

“I have to go now,” Enjolras said. “I”m sorry, R.” His eyes were shining as well. He opened his umbrella and ran off into the misty night. Grantaire stood in his wake, looking at his feet, wondering what he had done wrong. 

-Two Years Later- 

It was 1832. Political tensions were higher than they’d ever been since 1793. The only situation that was more uncomfortable than the political climate was the one between Enjolras and Grantaire. Enjolras never reciprocated Grantaire’s feelings. Two years had passed, and it was worse than ever. Grantaire’s drinking habit had grown into a serious addiction, so much so that he was passing out on the floor of the Cafe Musain almost every night. 

As Grantaire fell more and more into his sadness, Enjolras only grew more distant. He would barely speak to Grantaire at the meetings, and when he did, it was mostly insults. 

The rest of the Les Amis were worried. Joly suggested that Grantaire see a doctor for his alcohol problem. Most of the friends were scared to talk to Enjolras about this, since he radiated such anger. They knew that Grantaire loved Enjolras- he’d told them before he told the man himself. 

All that tension came to a point one day in June of 1832- political and the tensions between Enjolras and Grantaire. 

A riot had broken out after the funeral of a well-known general, Jean Lamarque. Seeing the insurrection as the perfect opportunity to bring about change, the friends of the ABC were on the streets, building a barricade in front of the Corinthe. It really was the perfect place to build a barricade, seeing as it was a dead end and couldn’t be ambushed from behind. As the excitement grew and the threat of an attack drew nearer, more and more people came to help, ripping apart walls and collecting rubble to build up the wall. 

It was only ten o’clock in the morning, but Grantaire was already drunk. His breakfast with Joly and Bossuet had ended in alcohol, and now he was asleep in the top room of the Corinthe. Joly and Bossuet were disturbed, but they let him sleep, seeing as he’d be more of a danger in battle than out of it. 

If Grantaire was fully out of the movement, then Enjolras was the heart and center of it, calling orders and hefting rubble to build up the pile. The moment came when it was no longer safe to venture outside of the barricade, and the rubble supply inside the barricade had been exhausted. The rebels’ only option was to take things from inside the buildings. Enjolras was the first to volunteer for this task, as he was feeling a little overwhelmed outside. 

The Corinthe had been grand in the past, but it had fallen into mild shades of disrepair in the last few years. Enjolras was about to bust it up even more. The stove proved useful for scrap metal, and there were several empty barrels that would look great in the barricade. He opened the door to a bedroom, where he awaited the chopping of a certain chifferobe, but instead found Grantaire sitting on the bed. 

Enjolras turned red from surprise. Grantaire simply lifted his doe eyes to look at him. He was awake. 

Enjolras stuttered some apology and turned to leave, but Grantaire called out his name. He halted in the doorframe. 

“What is it?” he said unkindly. 

“Sit down,” Grantaire said, patting the spot beside him. Enjolras was apprehensive. Grantaire must’ve noticed, for he said, “Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” Enjolras took the seat next to him warily. Grantaire smelled like alcohol, but he seemed perfectly sober. “What do you want?” Enjolras said. 

“I want to tell you how sorry I am,” Grantaire said. “I’m sorry that I had to bring my feelings between us.” He sighed and glanced down. “We never talk anymore. I want to go back to how it used to be- when we were friends. I can understand if you don’t want that, but…” he trailed off. “The truth, Enjolras, is that I miss you.” Enjolras was shocked by this display of emotion. He tried to think of something to say but couldn’t. 

“I miss you too, R,” he said softly. 

Grantaire looked up at him with those big brown eyes of his. “Tell me- what do you think of me now?” 

“I don’t know,” Enjolras answered truthfully. “I know I act like I hate you, but I think that deep down, it’s okay.” 

“I understand,” Grantaire said softly. He looked tired suddenly. 

“I think it’s hard for me to feel emotion,” Enjolras said, before he could think about what he was saying. “I think it’s hard for me to fall in love. When you told me you loved me, I was so unprepared for that. I just felt like everything was crumbling around me.” 

Grantaire looked pensive. Enjolras continued. 

“I think I loved you back, and I didn’t realize it until that moment. And I’d never dealt with something like that before, especially-” he gestured between them- “for me to love a man. I mean, I know it’s possible- just look at Joly and Bossuet. But I’d never even given it a thought.” 

Grantaire nodded his head. “It was hard for me to reconcile with that also,” he replied. Enjolras was the one to now look lost in thought. 

“I tried to distance myself from those feelings, and that’s why I pushed you away. It’s not your fault, Grantaire. It’s completely mine.” Enjolras reached out and grabbed his hand. Grantaire only smiled as Enjolras gently ran his thumb over the skin. 

A shout echoed in the distance. Enjolras stood up. 

“The barricades,” he said. “I’ve got to go back.” He squeezed Grantaire’s hand. “I’ll see you in the morning, R,” he murmured with a grin. 

“See you in the morning, Enjolras,” Grantaire said sleepily. Satisfied, Enjolras closed the door and headed down to the streets below.


End file.
